


only the lonely survive

by rweasley (hhwgv)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhwgv/pseuds/rweasley
Summary: From friendship it was an easy leap to more-than-friends, though they played enemies when other eyes were near. They were still snarky and rude to one another, but it was a necessary evil – a ruse that they had nearly perfected. However, when no one was around, they melted into one another. They met in darkened hallways and empty corridors, well hidden from any prying eyes. There were times when Ron wanted nothing more than the ability to hold Draco’s hand in the daylight, to let their tenderness show without worrying about the consequences.





	only the lonely survive

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my second Harry Potter fic so I hope you enjoy it! It was written for the prompt _remembering a lost one_ for the Holiday OWLs (it's a loose interpretation of the prompt, I know). I hope you enjoy! Unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine!

The dining hall was bursting at the seams with the sound of excited voices – students chattered enthusiastically about their plans for the upcoming winter break and Ron had to fight against his instincts to cover his ears with his hands. He didn’t want to talk about the upcoming break because his holiday wasn’t going to be a fun-filled affair like everyone else’s. He shovelled the food from his plate into his mouth in a desperate attempt to fill the broken cracks of himself and avoid any questions. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could escape the irritating happiness of his peers. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, though he could feel Harry and Hermione’s tense stares and caught the tail end of the worried glances they exchanged.

Once he’d finished, he excused himself without a word. Harry and Hermione were his best friends – they knew better than to follow him out of the hall. They didn’t know what to say anyway, the best they could offer were weak apologies or false reassurances. Once he left, they’d be free to speak about their own holidays, something they actively avoided mentioning when Ron was around.

Ron had barely made it out of the dining hall before he felt a hand grasp his wrist. He turned and felt the knot in his stomach loosen a little when he saw who had joined him. His lips curved in the first smile he’d managed all day.

His relationship with Draco Malfoy had started out quite rough. Their families actively disliked each other and it was passed down to their children like a dusty heirloom. They hated each other on principle, because Weasleys and Malfoys weren’t allowed to be anything but cold to one another. He wasn’t quite sure when the walls had started to crumble, when their relationship had morphed into something gentle. One moment they despised each other – the only thing exchanged between them was angry words and threats – and the next they found themselves in an uneasy friendship, stripping away the decades old prejudices that hung over them.

From friendship it was an easy leap to more-than-friends, though they played enemies when other eyes were near. They were still snarky and rude to one another, but it was a necessary evil – a ruse that they had nearly perfected. However, when no one was around, they melted into one another. They met in darkened hallways and empty corridors, well hidden from any prying eyes. There were times when Ron wanted nothing more than the ability to hold Draco’s hand in the daylight, to let their tenderness show without worrying about the consequences.

It wasn’t something Ron let himself consider. The fallout would be disastrous and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to withstand it. After everything that happened between their families – after Lucius Malfoy had been the reason Molly Weasley had died – there was no chance at reconciliation. Though none of the blame was Draco’s, Ron knew that his siblings felt differently. They believed that Draco was an exact replica of his father and that, if given the chance, he would have acted as Lucius did.

There was no one else in sight, so Ron allowed himself to relax into Draco’s touch, turning to embrace the smaller boy. Ron felt the dam behind his eyes buckle and he buried his face into the crook of Draco’s neck as tears streamed down his freckled cheeks. “I don’t want to do this,” he mumbled into Draco’s collar.

“I know,” Draco replied, using the voice he reserved specifically for Ron. It was softer, less snarky than his normal voice. The bravado that Draco used to protect himself was gone, replaced by a sweetness he rarely showed. He squeezed Ron tightly for reassurance. “You can call me whenever you need,” he continued, “I’ll always find a way to be there.”

Ron inhaled slowly – his lungs shook in warning that he was close to falling apart, though he wouldn’t let himself. Draco rubbed Ron’s arms gently, helping him to regain his composure. He reached up and used his thumb to wipe away the tears that stained Ron’s face. Draco pushed himself up onto his tiptoes to press a kiss to Ron’s lips.

It was so gentle and so quick that Ron barely had time to react. He wanted to do it again, to kiss Draco until the entire world was gone. He wanted to kiss Draco until they were the only two people left, until he forgot all of his sorrows and the darkness that loomed around every corner. He wanted to stay here with Draco instead of going back to a house haunted by the ghost of a family that no longer existed.

“Let’s go,” Ron said suddenly, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “before someone comes and sees us.” He led Draco towards the closest staircase. “I need a distraction.” He looked back and saw Draco’s face break into a grin – clearly they were both on the same page.

They followed a familiar route to one of the many classrooms that sat unused in this part of the school – most of the students weren’t aware that this part of the school even existed. It was covered in a fine layer of dust, which meant that it was the perfect place for Ron and Draco’s clandestine meetings. Ron pulled Draco into the first classroom they came upon. Desks were stacked in the corner of the room and soft morning light filtered through the murky window panes.

Once inside, Ron didn’t waste any time. He rested his hand on the back of Draco’s neck, leaning down and kissing him with a tenacity even he hadn’t anticipated. Draco moaned softly in surprise and Ron felt a tight curl of desire forming deep inside of him. Their bodies pressed against one another and it was Ron’s turn to moan as Draco’s hands strayed beneath his shirt, Draco’s delicate fingers teasing Ron’s flushed skin. Ron tangled a hand in Draco’s perfectly styled hair – determined to mess it up as much as possible.

Ron dragged his lips down, peppering soft kisses along Draco’s jaw before kissing his neck enthusiastically. He was careful not to make any marks on his lover’s pale skin. It was a mistake he’d made once and – although the sight had driven Ron wild – it wasn’t worth the teasing and jealousy that had come of it. Ron was unable to hide the bright blush that formed on his cheeks when his classmates started speculating about Draco’s relationship status. A soft gasp escaped Draco’s mouth and he murmured, “I love you,” against Ron’s ear. The warm air sent shivers down Ron’s spine and he pulled away slowly, his gaze meeting Draco’s intently.

“I love you, too,” he replied, his eyes alight with intention. He leaned down and kissed Draco again. This was perfect. This was everything that his life should be.

It was over too soon. Ron’s heart ached at the thought of not seeing Draco for weeks, and the train journey home was shorter than he wanted it to be.

Ron stood beside the gate, his stubborn feet unwilling to carry him the rest of the way towards the house. His heart beat wildly in his chest, afraid of what might lay inside the door. His siblings had long disappeared inside, but he found himself stuck on the threshold. He wasn’t ready to deal with the emptiness – with the absence of his mother – though he doubted he’d ever be.

Bitter winter winds swept through the yard, nipping at Ron’s exposed skin. He took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. He’d have to face it eventually; he couldn’t stay in the front yard for the entirety of winter break. He forced himself to move, ignoring the way his throat felt like it was trying to collapse in on itself. When he opened the door, he was greeted by the scent of stale liquor and old food.

Once the house had been warm – filled with joy, movement, and the smell of rolls or desserts baking, his mother bustling around trying to tidy up and failing to hide the clutter. Now it was the opposite of warm. It looked like the family living there had left in a hurry. Grime clung to every surface and half eaten food and empty bottles littered the house.

“Ron?” a gruff voice called from the living room. Ron followed the sound of the voice, both curious and nervous about what he might find. The largest collection of liquor bottles surrounded an overstuffed armchair, where their father lounged. He looked like a completely different person – his red hair long and unkempt and his thin greying beard appeared as though a family of mice could be living inside. It was as if he hadn’t left this room since they’d left for school earlier in the year.

Anything that might have reminded Ron of his mother was gone – only one of her glass figurines was left intact, the others were shattered on the floor below. “Dad,” Ron said tersely. He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact – he was unwilling to face what his father had become.

“Get me another beer from the refrigerator,” he said. It wasn’t a question, and Ron didn’t miss the threat simmering beneath the words.

Percy had called Ron and his siblings when they were at school, warning them about their father. He informed them that their father’s once docile tendencies had been replaced by anger and violence. The alcohol made him angry, and Percy was worried about what might happen. Fred and George had made a joke of it. “If we were Dad we’d hit him too,” they’d laughed. The joke had fallen flat, however. Percy underlined the seriousness of the situation by informing everyone that he wouldn’t return to their childhood home until their father put down the bottles and learned how to cope with his grief.

Ron hurried to the kitchen, his head ducked in obedience. He hadn’t seen his father like this – he’d only started drinking heavily once they’d left for school. Percy’s warning echoed in his mind as he handed his father another bottle. He waited hopefully for his father to say something, but he barely spared a glance for his youngest son before he muttered, “Get out of here.”

Ron didn’t wait to be asked twice. He hurried up the stairs to his bedroom and dropped his luggage on the floor as soon as he’d closed the door. He flopped down on the bed, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. Harry and Hermione had both texted him, but he ignored them in favour of reading the texts he’d received from Draco. “_I miss you already._”

“_I wish I was with you right now_,” Ron texted back. Winter holidays had barely begun and Ron already missed Draco so much his chest ached.

Time passed slowly, with Ron spending most of his time avoiding his father. When he wasn’t in his room, he was outside, making paths through the heavy snow drifts. There were parts of the garden he actively avoided – they were the places that reminded him of his mother, where she’d preened over her tomato plants, or the space beneath the large elm tree where she sat on warm days once the chores were done. This was how he chose to remember her and it was the only thing that kept him from getting swept up into the dark cloud that filled the house.

When Ron was around his family, no one said anything. Neither Bill nor Charlie had managed to come home for Christmas. Their excuses were the same, that they were unable to take any time off work. Silence stretched between the rest of them, another painful reminder that their mother was gone. No one mentioned her in fear that it would tear open old wounds and they worried about the violent way their father could react. They tiptoed around their father, obeying his every demand. Even Fred and George were silent – it seemed they had left their joy and excitement at school over the holidays.

Ron didn’t think his winter break could get any worse – it was dismal and dark, the only light was the texts Draco sent and imagining what it would be like once they returned to school. He was unaware of just how wrong he was until he came back to his room and found the door cracked open. His heart began to pound – he knew his siblings enough to know the signs that one of them was going through his things. He entered to find Ginny sitting on his bed, hunched over his phone and he knew that she’d seen everything. She either couldn’t control her volume or she didn’t care to. Her voice came out in a loud screech. “You’re fucking Malfoy?” she demanded, still clutching his phone.

A lump lodged itself in Ron’s throat and he swallowed thickly, attempting to get rid of it. “No,” he answered, his voice strained. “I’m not. Now give me back my phone.” He tried to stay calm, to keep his voice at a reasonable volume so he wouldn’t attract the rest of his family for the remainder of the conversation.

“Don’t lie, Ron!” Ginny spat back, her voice much louder than Ron wanted it to be. “You’ve been texting him non-stop since we left school! How could you do this?” Her face was starting to flush with anger and Ron could hear footsteps on the stairs. His heart sank – everyone was going to know. His beautiful secret, the only thing that had been truly his, was going to be out in the open and his entire family was going to hate him.

“What the hell is going on?” Fred asked, “Why are you yelling?” It was a plea to keep their voices down – though Ron knew that it was pointless. He could already hear his father lumbering up the stairs and he began preparing himself for the inevitable anger.

“He’s dating Draco!” Ginny answered, her voice shrill. She pointed an accusatory finger at Ron. “Draco _Malfoy_!” she emphasized.

Fred and George turned to look at Ron, who kept his gaze fixed on his feet. He didn’t want to see the disgust, the disappointment on his family’s faces. His cheeks were hot and he knew that the truth would be evident to everyone that saw him. “Is that true?” a slurred voice asked from behind the twins. Ron didn’t say anything, he was too busy trying to control the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes. The twins moved to let their father into the room and he barrelled towards Ron, grabbing him by his collar.

“I said, is it true?” their father bellowed into Ron’s face. He could almost taste the day-old alcohol on his father’s breath.

Ron raised his head to meet his father’s eyes, terrified by the blazing anger that swam behind inebriation. “Yes.” His voice was barely above a whisper. His father’s eyes widened and his fist tightened in the fabric of Ron’s shirt.

“How could you?” his father’s voice was quieter now, but it was just as angry, just as dangerous. Ron couldn’t bear the expression in his father’s eyes and he looked down, trying to appear remorseful. “After everything that family’s done? After what he did to your mother?” he continued bitterly. He didn’t let go of Ron, and Ron could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

“Draco didn’t do anything,” Ron protested quietly. “It isn’t his fault Mum’s de–” his sentence was cut off by pain exploding through his skull. He’d seen it in his peripheral, but his father’s grip rendered him helpless to react. It was followed by another hit, but this time there was a sickening crunch as blood poured from his nose. Ron could barely make sense of it – suddenly he was on the floor, his head spinning. Blood stained the stretched collar of his shirt and there was a small pool starting to form on the floor.

“Clean this mess up,” his father barked, his voice heavy with unending rage, “and don’t let me hear of this again. If you mention that name, you will not like the result.”

Ron couldn’t move – shock and pain kept him rooted to the floor as his father stomped out of the room, followed closely by the lighter footsteps of his siblings. Pain blurred his vision and he didn’t trust his shaking body to hold him quite yet. Tears fell from his eyes, mixing with the blood to form bloody streams down his face. He didn’t know how long he sat there, how long he allowed himself to fall apart, but his tired legs protested as he pushed himself up from his crumpled position on the floor. He was relieved that there were no mirrors in his room as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to face the injuries his father had inflicted.

Miraculously, his phone was lying on his bed. He’d half expected Ginny or his father to take it, to destroy it in a feeble attempt to prevent him from contacting Draco again. His fingers trembled as he typed out a message he’d hoped he would never send. “_I need help. I need to leave._”

Draco replied almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting for Ron to text him. “_Where are we going?_”

“_Anywhere. As soon as we can._”

“_What happened?_” Draco asked. Another text came a moment after the first. “_Are you safe?_”

“_They found out about us. He hit me, I think he broke something. As long as I stay away from him, I think I will be._”

Ron wished that he had Draco’s arms wrapped around him, that Draco was here to clean up the mess his father had made of his face. “_Meet me at our spot tonight at 11. We’re leaving. For good._”

Ron sent a heart back, his body humming with excitement. They’d talked about leaving more times than he could count, and now escape was so close that he could almost taste it. He wasn’t sure what would happen to his family once he left – would they even notice? – but he wouldn’t have to live in a house that was haunted by the ghost of his mother or be confronted by the shell of the man that had once been his father. It would be a fresh beginning, him and Draco against the world and nothing else would matter.

Eleven o’clock couldn’t come soon enough. Ron had managed to clean the blood off of his face, though his nose still dripped occasionally. He inspected his injuries carefully. In addition to his swollen nose that was undoubtedly broken, he had two black eyes and a dark bruise forming along the base of his jaw. He’d mopped his blood off of the bedroom floor and packed his valuables and necessities into a well-worn rucksack. It had belonged to Charlie once, and it was one of Ron’s favourite hand-me-downs.

He waited anxiously for the rest of his family to fall asleep before shouldering his bag and sneaking down the stairs. Luckily he knew which stairs creaked and which floorboards were safe to step on to avoid making noise as he crept towards the front door, towards freedom. His hand was on the doorknob when a voice came from behind him. “Ron?” his father blinked at him, hardly able to stand. His eyes scanned Ron lazily before he turned and started back towards the living room. In the darkness, he called over his shoulder, “Don’t come back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!! Constructive criticism is appreciated!


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